


A World Of Ash And Ruin

by lostintimeandspace



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Dystopia, Gen, Google Translate is unreliable, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Apocalypse, World War III
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25998253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostintimeandspace/pseuds/lostintimeandspace
Summary: the wake of the bombing, the stone city was reduced to a silent, ash-blasted wasteland. Half-crumbled pillars and ruined buildings jutted up from the dusty ground like the bones of a corpse. A scavenger picks through the rubble carcass, a dark vulture in the early hours of the day.World War III dystopia. Original work. Not worth reading.
Relationships: Oliver Danseroux & Hikaru Yamazaki





	A World Of Ash And Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> Original work. Inspiration run out, couldn't think of an ending. If someone likes this, maybe I'll fire up my brain again.

In the wake of the bombing, the stone city was reduced to a silent, ash-blasted wasteland.

Half-crumbled pillars and ruined buildings jutted up from the dusty ground like the bones of a corpse.

Searching through the rubble like a vulture picking at an animal carcass, a lone scavenger combed through the remains of the city with swift, practised motions, working by the light of flickering torch holstered at his belt. Every so often, he would hold up an object to examine it, and then stash it away in the dark leather satchel he was carrying. '866 JAP-SCO YAMAZAKI' was neatly embroidered on the front, with a vulture skull just below. A faint trail of smoke rose from the rudimentary cigarette hanging between the scavenger's fingers, the tip glowing a dark orange in harsh contrast to the grey of the landscape surrounding him and the darkness of early morning. Hours after the bombing, the air was full of smoke and the scent of death. Sitting down on a large block of stone, he tapped the ash off the end of the cigarette.

The sun had begun its ascent, staining part of the sky a deep shade of orange. The dark grey clouds were gilded with a glowing edge, and the horizon was painted with streaks of cherry and violet. The destruction of the night was erased by the dawn.

"Fancy seein' you here. Have you found anything valuable yet?"

A voice rang out, shattering the silence that had engulfed the city's ruins. The scavenger named Yamazaki Hikaru looked up, and saw a man leaning against the side of a barely intact archway - what had been the entrance to the local church. He was wearing the same kind of dark, layered clothes and satchel, but '865 FRA-IRE DANSEROUX' was spelled out on the leather in faded letters, with the same bird insignia. 

Recognising the other man as his partner, Hikaru nodded, pulling his dusty black mask down and putting the cigarette to his chapped lips. His skin was pale and streaked with dust, and his face was thin and gaunt, bones prominent with the same hunger that was in his eyes. Then he coughed, ribbons of smoke curling from his mouth as he frowned at the cigarette. "I do not understand the appeal of smoking."

Oliver Danseroux smirked, sitting next to Hikaru and taking the cigarette. He raised it to his mouth and inhaled deeply. Then he blew out a ring of smoke that drifted away. The two scavengers sat there, watching the smoke ring float over the rubble. The silence felt heavy but fragile, a stolen moment of peace just hours after an earth-shaking explosion that had almost razed an entire city to the ground. Hikaru's gaze drifted to his companion. Oliver's eyes were shut, and he was uncharacteristically quiet, lost in thought.

"It helps you relax, then? The nicotine?" Hikaru asked.

Oliver opened his eyes. They were a startling shade of green, a colour that didn't exist anywhere else. A colour lost to time.

"Yeah," he replied. Then, holding the cigarette between his lips and inhaling again, he pulled a small metal flask out of his bag and handed it to Hikaru.

Hikaru glanced down, regarding the flask suspiciously. "What kind of liquid is inside this?"

"You'll 'ave to find out, mate," Oliver grinned. "Just somethin' that'll calm your nerves."

"I am not nervous. This is not my first expedition," Hikaru replied. "And you should not drinking on the job."

"Lighten up, it's just whiskey. I won't tell if you don't."

Gingerly, Hikaru unscrewed the cap and raised the flask to his lips. He grimaced, then handed it back. "Sore wa iyadesu, tha seo blasad mar losgadh cac," he said. "That tastes awful."

"Not sure what the first part meant, but suit yerself, mate," Oliver said, putting the flask back into his bag.

"Stop referring to me as 'mate.' We have only known each other for two days, and this is our first expedition as partners. I would hardly say that is sufficient time for me to be the victim of your Irish pet naming customs."

"I'm only half Irish, and I'm just trying to be friendly. Would you prefer 'mon chérie' or 'gobshite'?"

Hikaru didn't reply, standing up and continuing to search through the wreckage. Oliver exhaled a steady stream of smoke, watching the wind take it over his head, towards the sunrise.

A new day. The calm before the storm, in the wake of ruin.

Oliver drops the cigarette and crushes it with the heel of his boot. Just adding grey to grey. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. He joins Hikaru.

It was a stolen moment of peace. And Oliver knew that the fragile silence was soon to be shattered.


End file.
